I am lying on a friend’s couch, somewhere in Los Angeles. At least, I think she’s my friend. I don’t really remember my name, but then again, it doesn’t matter, does it? There were plenty of people there, sprawled out in the expanses of that line – that line that begged the existence of a god.

No one remembered their names, for their families and their friends were lost in the aisles, nooks and crannies of that wretched Best Buy themselves. Different places, same fate.

What can I recall? I recall deliriously low prices on games and CD’s, yes – but for me, my poison was movies and the Blu-Rays were price-slashed to bits. They were tempting me, tempting all of us, beckoning to our coffers through our brains.

“Yes, come on – save some money. Save some money, yeah – right there!“

But a wise vagrant once told me, “Give me a buck and Jesus Christ will forgive you for all your fornicating.” And while that has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that it haunts me to this day, he also said, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

What better American intention is there than that of saving money? Was I wrong in doing this? Someone tell me because I can no longer think straight.

That day comes to me in flashes now – a push here, a shove there, a maybe pretty woman in the TV section but I couldn’t tell because I could only see half her face – but all I truly remember was peering over the shelves and the crowds of people to the cluster of registers and the waiting line that snaked through the innards of the store.

No matter what we stood at that moment and regardless of what we chose to buy, we’d all end up in that same place. There was no escape; it was inevitable.

Jesus wept.

Believe me: I wanted to leave. I wanted to go and flee that blasted place and get as far away from it as possible.

But in my arms were some Blu-Rays that I knew would never be this cheap again. So I walked in circles around the movie aisles – I must have walked around them a hundred times – putting off what was eventual.

And each time I looked up and out to that line, it never got any shorter. It seemed to only grow, outward and outward.

I went alone and I told no one and now with my phone in my hand, I was tempted to call someone, anyone, to ask them for help, hold a place in line maybe while I went to go look for that last copy of Se7en on Blu.

My desperation was high, yet I knew better. I landed myself here. The onus was on me, and me alone, to find my way out.

Marched I did towards the end of intimidating line, walking alongside all the other breaking and broken shoppers all the while. Men with red eyes. The women, perhaps with said men, who wanted nothing and would be giving nothing later when all they’ll want is some.

And the children! Those innocent ones who would look up at me as I passed. How long had they been on their feet? They watched me go, with no one, and perhaps in their young minds pondered why I would willingly subject myself to this situation.

Little did they know, I wondered the same thing. Taking my place at the back of the line, I took off my watch.

I wanted no reminder of time. Time was not here. We were out of time, outside of it, in a place where even angels feared to tread.

Though I began on my feet, I wound up on my knees before I was no better than my peers, spread out on that filthy, filthy floor.

Now I’m here, in Los Angeles – which makes no sense because that Best Buy was in Orange County – and I don’t know quite what happened. But the sun has since set on Black Friday, dawning now on a new day.

I am alive. And seriously – Mimic for $4.99? That shit is never gonna be that cheap again–

–at least until next year.